


Role Reversal

by omgbubblesomg



Series: 31 fics in 31 days [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 24/7 Ds relationship, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anal Fingering, Bottom Castiel, Consensual Slavery, Dom Dean Winchester, Dom/sub, Hand Feeding, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Master Castiel, Master/Slave, Paddling, Role Reversal, Slave Dean, Spanking, Submissive Castiel, dubcon slavery, with a hiccup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 05:15:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12358245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omgbubblesomg/pseuds/omgbubblesomg
Summary: In a society where Angels own humans as slaves, Castiel and his human have found a workaround. In private, Dean is Castiel’s master and Dom. But in public, they must both act against their nature to avoid suspicion. When they get home, Castiel must be punished in order to feel absolved and comfortable returning to his knees for his master.





	Role Reversal

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted a short little ficlet but I went onto the kinkmeme page so of course I ended up with something way too long. For [this](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/127945.html?thread=44308425) prompt. 
> 
> Dammit. Just remembered I've already done Destiel. Does this count as a unique pairing if they're in an AU? Probably not. Not even halfway and I've failed :'(
> 
> Kinktober day 14: Sensory deprivation | **Role reversal** | incest

Castiel hates going out. Given the choice, he would spend every waking minute at home, with no one but his master, Dean.

But that’s exactly the problem. Dean is a _human._ And humans are slaves, not masters. They’re sole purpose is to see to the needs of their Angels. But Castiel has never been comfortable with power. In fact, the only time he ever feels comfortable is when he’s at the end of a leash, kneeling in front of Dean. His slave _and_ master.

Today, though, there’s no help for it. He has to go out. He’s promised his brother coffee. He stares at his hands on the floor in mute horror as Dean collects the collar. They both know that they’ll need to spend the next few hours acting, but for Castiel it feels like a punishment already. He’s going to have to pretend to be a master. He’s _supposed_ to feel at-ease when in control, but he never is. He hates it. He hates giving orders. He hates being relied upon.

Dean is taking care of him as best as he can. Giving him as many orders as he can get away with, so Castiel can play the part while still being submissive.

“You’re going to lead me to the café,” Dean says, stern as always. “You’re not allowed to look at me unless not doing so will jeopardise your position. You will order a caramel latte and a slice of carrot cake. You will feed me one piece of the cake. You will drink your latte at a normal pace— _no rushing_ —and continue talking with your brother for at least fifteen minutes afterwards before making your excuses to leave.”

“Yes, Sir,” Castiel whispers. His body is already tensing up. He hates what’s about to happen.

“From the moment we leave this house to the moment we return, your foremost responsibility is to maintain the illusion that you are a master.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“But you will never forget that it is only a role, and that when we return you will be punished to remind you of your place.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

Dean pets his cheek gently. “Good boy,” he says. It’s the last praise Castiel will receive until they return home. Dean tugs on his hair, until he stands up. Castiel closes his eyes while Dean dresses him, choosing a shirt and trousers and a trench coat they both hate, to remind him that he is not in control of what he wears. Next, Dean knots a tie at the base of Castiel’s throat, pulling it firm until it rests just beneath Castiel’s collar. He whimpers, but keeps his eyes closed as Dean undresses. He has not worn clothes since last week, when they had to go to the store to collect some groceries that couldn’t be delivered.

The last thing is the collars. Dean pulls his out from the bottom drawer, and closes it with a soft _snick_ around his neck. Castiel doesn’t watch. He can’t bear it. Then, finally, Dean reaches up to unlock Castiel’s. They don’t share a collar because, as Dean reminds him, Castiel’s collar is a submissive’s collar, and Dean is not submissive.

Castiel opens his eyes, and Dean wordlessly gives him the handle of the leash. The other end is already attached to the front loop of Dean’s collar. Dean’s face is completely blank. There’s nothing there to expose his true identity. Not a trace of the real Dean beneath the smooth expressionless mask.

Castiel turns away from his master, naked and collared, and leads him to the door. Except he’s not leading, really. He’s not. Dean has ordered him to do this. He’s following instructions. Dean is still leading him.

He repeats this to himself as he reaches out, unlocks the door, and steps outside. Dean follows mutely behind, and waits for Castiel to close the door. His hands are loose at his sides. The neighbour waves at Castiel, and he waves back. “Hello, Naomi. How are the peonies?” They trade small talk about the weather and it’s all a _lie_. Castiel’s master stays exactly three feet away, limbs loose and looking blankly at the ground.

They walk leisurely to the café. Castiel doesn’t want even the remotest chance of accidentally tugging the leash, so he walks as slow as he thinks he can. Dean is barefoot and has to pick his steps carefully on the sidewalk, while keeping his head down and maintaining the correct distance from Castiel.

He tries not to look at his master. He has been ordered not to. But it’s so hard. He wants some kind of affirmation that he’s doing well, that he’s not alone. But recognition doesn’t even cross Dean’s face when Castiel peeks at him while they wait at the pedestrian crossing.

The café is only half full, and Castiel breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that Luci has chosen a table in the corner, instead of in the middle. He smiles as he approaches and forces himself not to watch his master as Dean kneels next to his chair.

“Hello, Luci.”

“Brother dearest, so good to see you! You look pale. Have you been cooped up inside all this time?”

Castiel bites his lip. It has not escaped his family’s notice that he prefers the indoors. “I’m writing a book,” he reminds his brother, which is true.

Luci waves his hand dismissively. “I want to see more of you, Cassie. Coffee once a month is hardly enough for brothers, don’t you agree? Ahh, black coffee and an English muffin.” A blonde human has arrived at the table, and she stares at the floor while she writes Luci’s order down.

“Caramel latte,” Castiel mutters, glad for the distraction. “And a slice of carrot cake.”

“Sorry, Sir. We’re out of carrot cake. Can I get you something else, Sir?”

Castiel’s stomach drops right out of his body. He feels himself pale and he knows he’s about to ruin everything. He can’t make this decision. He doesn’t know. “U-um,” he stutters. He needs Dean so terribly that he can’t think straight, but his primary order is to maintain the illusion that he is a master, and he can’t ask for help from his slave. Not for ordering _cake._

“We have banana cake?” the slave offers. Does Castiel like banana cake? Kind of. Does that mean he should say yes? What if Dean doesn’t like banana cake? God, he’s already broken his orders and it’s only been two minutes. “Or chocolate?” the slave continues. “Or raspberry and coconut?”

Castiel’s about to fall apart but Dean moves minutely at his side, until the side of his hand is resting against Castiel’s shin, out of sight where no one will see. It grounds him immediately, gives him an anchor to the world, and he nods once. “Yes,” he manages.

“The… the raspberry and coconut, Sir?”

“That will do.”

The slave has been dismissed, and she makes a hasty retreat while Luci eyes him. “You okay there, Cassie?”

“Fine,” Castiel says tersely. What he wants to do more than anything is to gulp in oxygen, and fall at Dean’s feet to beg him to look after him. But he somehow has to make it through the rest of the morning and he’s already stressed and itching. He’s not supposed to be clothed. He’s not supposed to be sitting on a chair with Dean at his feet. He’s definitely not supposed to be walking around without his collar. He surreptitiously tightens his tie, hoping it will be enough to fill the ache.

Quickly, he asks his brother about work, and Luci gets distracted talking about whatever merger his company is trying to pull off. Castiel lets himself drift away.

When their drinks and food arrive, he suffers another round of indecision. Dean had told him to give him a piece of carrot cake, but Castiel doesn’t know if the order still stands for this, too. He can feel himself start to shake. Everyone else is breaking off a piece of their meal. He will stand out if he refuses to. But what if Dean doesn’t like it?  

There’s no hope for it. Luci is going into detail about a particular client, and Castiel breaks off a piece of the cake. He doesn’t even breathe as he blindly drops his hand to where Dean is kneeling.

Warm lips engulf his fingers as Dean takes the morsel, and Castiel relaxes immediately. It’s going to be okay. Dean is here.

Dean bites gently at Castiel’s finger, and despite the circumstances he can’t help but respond, his heart stuttering in his chest. When he pulls his hand away, Dean takes the opportunity to sidle slightly closer, so he’s a warm presence against the side of Castiel’s leg.

It keeps him focused, and he manages to ask a few questions about Luci’s work, and his new slave, who’s sitting silently beside her master.

“She’s fine,” Luci shrugs. Nothing like yours. His eyes get a twinkle. “Don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind about selling him yet?”

Dean doesn’t react but Castiel tenses up. “He’s not for sale,” he mutters.

“Come on, now. Don’t be like that. At least let me try him out.”

“Luci,” Castiel warns.

“Do I even get to look at him? Come on, bring him up. Let me take a peek.”

Castiel trembles, but there’s no feasible way for him to refuse. “Dean,” he finally says. “Stand up.” Dean rises immediately, face blank and calm. Castiel doesn’t let himself turn away. It would be a dead giveaway if he looked like he hated the sight of his slave’s naked body. “Turn,” he orders, and his voice comes out through numb lips. He’s ordering his master. It’s so wrong. _He’s_ so wrong.

Dean turns slowly on the spot, and Luci whistles. “Fuck, his ass his delicious. And those lips. You wouldn’t mind if I checked him out would you, Cassie? Make sure he’s in working order. Wouldn’t want my baby brother with a substandard slave.”

“Dean is not substandard,” Castiel hisses. “And he’s _mine._ ”

Luci raises his hands. “Fine, fine. Touchy, much?” He gives Dean a long, lecherous look, and then waves him away. Dean returns to his position next to Castiel’s chair.

They pass the rest of the morning awkwardly, and the cake tastes like charcoal on Castiel’s tongue. He can’t stand the weight of his skin. When will it be over?

He forces himself to wait a full fifteen minutes, and then he stands abruptly. “This has been lovely,” he says, and it sounds so forced that he’s not at all surprised when Luci raises an eyebrow at him.

“Going so soon?”

“I have… things to do.”

Luci shrugs. “Sure. But I want to see you again. Soon. Next Friday. Bring your pet with you.” He winks and licks his lips and Castiel can’t help the jerk of his wrist as he draws Dean closer.

He tries to walk slowly on the way home but he knows he’s failing. He needs to be in his own house. He needs this morning to be over.

His hands shake as he fumbles the keys out of his pocket. _Faster,_ he urges himself. Dean stands mutely beside him, not moving to help. _Faster, come on. Gotta get inside._ The key finally finds the lock and he practically yanks the door open, almost falling over the threshold. Dean’s right behind him, and as soon as the door closes Castiel’s knees give out. Dean catches him, pressing kisses into his hair and temple.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “Close your eyes. We’re back. You made it. Nobody found out. You’re okay. We’re here. I’ve got you.” While he talks he hefts Castiel into a better position, and then carries him through the house, into the bedroom. “It’s all right. I’m here. We’re home.” He lays Castiel out on the bed, and Castiel doesn’t move a muscle as Dean pulls the clothes off him, piece by piece. When he’s naked Dean finally, finally puts the collar back on, snapping it closed. Castiel goes instantly boneless. He’s back. Dean’s got him. He doesn’t have to pretend anymore. Dean will take care of him. Dean will show him his place.

Dean keeps up the reassurances as he moves about the bedroom. “Open your eyes,” he finally orders, and Castiel complies. Dean’s back in his regular outfit. Low-slung jeans and a tight black shirt with plaid over the top. Castiel is naked and collared. Everything’s back where it’s supposed to be. “Feeling better?” Dean asks.

“Yes, Sir,” Castiel whispers.

“Good. On your knees.” Castiel is quick to respond, wriggling onto the floor as fast as he can. This is familiar. He needs this. He aches for it. They do this every time he steps outside. A reminder of his real place.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see that Dean is holding something in his hands. It’s the wooden paddle. The one with the knobbles on one side. It hurts when used properly, and he moans. _Yes,_ he thinks. _I need it._

“You’re going to be punished,” Dean tells him. Castiel nods, not trusting his voice. “Do you know why?”

“Because I’m not a master,” Castiel whispers.

“And?”

“Be… because I’m… I’m your slave.”

“Good boy. Elbows and knees, now.” Castiel assumes the correct position, and lets Dean kick his legs apart. It puts his balls in the line of fire but it doesn’t scare him. He wants that pain, too. He’s Dean’s. “You need to be reminded of your place,” Dean tells him, and Cas can’t speak. Can only quiver as he thinks, _Yes, I do. Please. Remind me._ He’s hard and leaking already. “You will get five hits for every indiscretion. Do you know how many indiscretions you committed?” Castiel shakes his head. “Let me remind you. First, you looked at me while we were waiting at the lights. Second, you became distracted while your brother was speaking. Third, you told your brother that I belonged to you. Fourth, you unnecessarily yanked the leash. Fifth, you walked home too fast. Sixth, you forgot to say goodbye to Naomi when you went past.”

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut. Six misdemeanours. He had failed. God, how could he…

“Count,” Dean orders him, and that’s the only warning he gets before the first _smack_ echoes through the bedroom. He cries out in both pain and relief. It’s perfect. He’s exactly where he’s supposed to be. He’s exactly where Dean put him. The bare cheek of his ass is on fire.

“One!” he shouts.

Dean rains them down methodically. Each one slightly overlapping the one before, until Castiel’s ass feels raw. Every third or fourth hit catches his balls and makes him yell, though he doesn’t move. He keeps his face buried in his arms and loses himself in it, counting out loud as he goes.

At thirty, Castiel heaves a sob. His legs are shaking but it’s not bad enough that he’s in danger of dropping his pose.

“Th-thank you, Sir,” he stutters.

Dean slathers something cool over his ass, smoothing it in circles across his reddened cheeks while he trembles.

“What are you?” Dean asks gently.

“Y-yours!”

“Good boy. Your punishment is over.” Castiel goes to sit up but Dean’s hand lands on the small of his back, keeping him down. “But I’m not finished yet,” he murmurs. “You get a reward, too.”

“S-Sir?”

“Your primary order was to maintain your role. Which you did. Even when it contradicted another order.”

Castiel trembles, remembering the cake. “You… you’re not mad, Sir?”

“On the contrary.” Dean’s mouth comes close, and his tongue licks hot at Castiel’s ear. “I’m proud of you, Cas. You overcame your fear and got through perfectly. You were _so good._ ” Castiel keens at the praise. He had done the right thing! His cock, which had fallen during his punishment, now jumps up in excitement. “Would you like to know your other successes?” Dean asks, and Cas nods vigorously, face still hidden against his arms. “So, first, you followed your first command and ordered a different cake. Second, you didn’t get distracted when I bit your finger. Third, you told your brother I belonged to you.”

“Wha—?”

Dean’s hand runs down the crack of his sore ass. “You’re confused why you’re being punished and rewarded for the same thing?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You were punished for stating a falsehood. And to remind you that I don’t belong to you. You’re being rewarded for responding to your brother’s request so as to maintain your primary order. Are you ready for your reward?”

Castiel whimpers into his arms. “Yes, Sir!”

“Don’t move.”

Dean’s roving finger slips down to gently caress Castiel’s abused balls. His cock twitches at the stimulation, but he maintains the position, letting Dean touch him. His upturned ass is ablaze but it feels perfect when Dean smooths a hand against him, whispering softly. Finally, finally, his finger disappears, and returns a moment later with something slick and cool, which he presses to Castiel’s hole.

“Good boy,” Dean whispers again, as he slips his finger inside. “I’ll take care of you.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I’m running out of pairings you guys. At least… I’m running out of pairings I enjoy writing. Tomorrow’s prompts are sounding | object insertion | lap dances and it’s… it’s probably going to be wincest.
> 
> Tune in for Kink Day 15: Bubbles gives up
> 
> As always please leave kudos/comments if you enjoyed the fic!


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